


Ghosts of Yet to Come

by Ael_tRlailiiu



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Time Travel, author regrets everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ael_tRlailiiu/pseuds/Ael_tRlailiiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Howard Stark gets punched in the face a lot. Really, that's pretty much it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of Yet to Come

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened because of a Tumblr exchange with ourladyoftheironmasque, but is in no way her fault. I did not inflict this on my beta reader, who will probably thank me. No animals were harmed in the writing of this fic. No warranty express or implied.

The first time it happened, it was a very tall red-head with very nice legs. He got a good look at those from the floor of the lab, after she appeared out of thin air and landed an impressive right directly on his jaw.

“You unmitigated _bastard_ ,” she said, kicked him on the shoulder with a sharply pointed shoe, and disappeared.

“What the hell?” Howard picked himself up and looked around. The room was very much empty, with no sign that the the enigmatic visitor had ever been, except for the emerging bruise on his jaw. To the best of his knowledge, he had never seen her before. Baffling. He ran tests and found traces of esoteric energies that kept him up far into the night, puzzling over their potential meaning.

The following morning he glanced up from his calculations to find a black man giving him a frowning once-over (scratch HYDRA plot off the list of possibilities). Exhausted from his late night (and he wasn't as young as he used to be), Howard was too slow to avoid the fist that landed considerately enough on his unbruised side. The impact was just hard enough to stagger him.

Then a right. Then a left.

“Hey! I don't—” Howard tried to get a word in, to retreat, to defend himself, but this fellow knew his business.

“Oh no you don't, I get one shot for every year I've known that screwed-up—hey, I wasn't done!” He, too, disappeared.

“There—ow--there must be a rational explanation for this.”

He couldn't think of any, but he stayed in the lab all night again, working on theories and taking new readings in between applying ice packs. Each visitation had lasted less than a minute. He didn't know either of them. Perhaps it was a strange case of mistaken identity? Teleportation? Parallel universes?

Perhaps a third data point would make everything clear. He was on the lookout for much of the following day, almost eager to find out what might happen, but it was late in the evening before he sensed another presence in the room, and his much-abused jaw dropped open.

“ _Steve Rogers?_ You're dead!”

“No, I'm not. Long story.” In the flesh, unchanged since their last meeting, though his clothes were of a modern style. He looked put out.

“You're going to hit me, aren't you.”

“We had to draw straws. I just wish I had time to explain the amount of bullshit I put up with every day that can be laid at your door.”

“I wish you could, too, but all right then.” At least Steve would be decent about it.

And he was, though he packed one hell of a punch, and then he vanished.

The readings were done in haste; the calculations could wait. He picked up the phone.

“Baxter, it's Howard. It's about the next search expedition. I'm going to triple the funding. Oh, and I'll be going along with you this time.”

“Well, that's lovely, I'm sure we're grateful for the boost and everything, but... isn't your wife due—”

“Yes, yes. This is _important_.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry...?


End file.
